


sleep well, my love

by zenniath



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, otp: wait that's my word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenniath/pseuds/zenniath
Summary: Leaning down to whisper into Pete’s hair, he murmured, “You’re safe, darling. You’ll always be safe here.” And he gave the crown of Pete’s head a kiss.
Relationships: Chasten Buttigieg/Pete Buttigieg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	sleep well, my love

The drive home felt much too long, as if the world was moving in slow motion. Then again, everything seemed to be, since the announcement. He had gotten so used to the rapid-fire pace of the campaign, as tiring as it had been.

He glanced over at his husband. His eyes were closed and his body was tense, even in sleep. He remembered seeing wrinkles carve deeper into the corners of those eyes, slowly but surely reaching for his temples. Still, somehow, those eyes never once lost their brightness; not a day had passed when those eyes had fallen dull. At least, not while he was looking at them. Not when he was falling into them on the increasingly rare occasion that they were together. 

He realized that he’d have much more frequent occasion to fall into them now. The thought was bittersweet. 

He was tempted to simply park in the front of their house — it would be so much faster on the way inside. But he knew that Pete, his ever rule-abiding Pete, would never park right by a “No Parking” sign, least of all the one by the sidewalk in front of their house, no matter how tired he was, no matter how late. So he drove a little farther, put on the turn signal (Pete always did, and now it was his habit, too), and turned into the alleyway, parking the car in the garage. 

His husband didn’t stir as he removed the key, turned to pick up the two briefcases in the back seat, and gently closed the doors. Inside, the coffee table, full of various work papers anyways, would serve as a suitable place for the briefcases until morning. He set them down quietly, careful not to disturb the dogs, wherever they were sleeping. Papers could be worried about tomorrow.

Back outside, for a moment, he watched Pete breathe. His eyes moved around restlessly under the lids, brows furrowed as if he were thinking over policy papers, even in his dreams. Pete had almost always slept like that, working himself to the bone unless someone insisted he give himself a bit of slack. Sometimes Chasten was torn between whether he should wake him from his fitful slumber, relieving him from the earnest worry that seemed to plague him in nightmares, or whether he should let him get what little sleep he could, no matter how ill at ease he looked. He opened the car door and was a little surprised that even that wasn’t enough to wake his sleeping husband.

“Peter,” he whispered, bending down to take Pete’s hands in his own. “Wake up, babe. We’re home.” _Home._ A place that they had grown used to spending so little time in the past year, travelling across the country, following the longest way round. 

Pete’s eyes opened in one smooth motion, though slower than they typically did. It had surprised him the first time he observed Pete waking up; no fidgeting, no tossing and turning, rarely even a yawn. His eyes — beautiful, clear blue eyes that he would never get bored of — would simply snap open, ready to go. Looking back, it shouldn’t have been surprising. Everything Pete did was so characteristically _Pete_.

The sluggish way his gaze moved down to their entwined hands, and then up to meet Chasten’s, was endearing in a way that made Chasten’s heart ache. A smile crept across Pete’s face, and he moved to get out of the car, keeping their hands enveloped around each other. Pete lifted their hands together and brought Chasten’s knuckles to his lips, brushing each one with a dry kiss. A small, wordless gesture of affection. 

Chasten could never stop falling in love with this man.

Pete released one of Chasten’s hands to close the car door, and they ambled through the backyard. It felt like it had been years since they’d been able to slow down this much, to simply take their time together. In a sense, it was true; even before the campaign, Pete was always here for a meeting or there for a briefing. Flying out for a conference or working overtime at the office. Always something to do. And now, for once, even if it was just for the day, for the week, there was nothing urgent. No mayoral duties. No campaign stops. Nothing. 

Chasten stopped for a moment, turning his face to the sky and sighing. “Look, Peter. The stars.” And Pete turned his face to follow Chasten’s gaze, sighing a little sigh of his own, leaning his head on Chasten’s shoulder and lacing their fingers together. He said nothing, and didn’t need to; everything was said in the way their sides pressed against each other. When was the last time they had looked at the stars together, taken a pause from life to simply stand in awe of the world around them?

They stood silently for a long moment, eyes cast to the expansive void above them.

Slowly, reluctantly, Chasten turned back to his husband. He was seemingly frozen in place, his expression one of gentle content and quiet wonder, and oblivious that his nose was turning rosy in the cold. Chasten lifted a finger to playfully tap it, catching his attention. “We should head inside before you catch a cold again.” Smiling, they crossed the threshold and closed the door to the biting air.

Pete was halfway up the stairs when his shuffling gait faltered, about to lose balance if it weren’t for the railing and Chasten’s arm around his waist. “Hey, hey.” He put his fingers on Pete’s chin, turning his head around. “Are you okay?” He bit his tongue as soon as he said the words. He’d forgotten.

Those eyes widened, then narrowed, mulling over a question that would seem mundane to anyone else. He saw a dozen emotions flicker through them, fighting to break through the surface as Pete’s instinct, naturally, was to force them back down. Pete’s gaze finally dropped to the floor, defeated. “No.” It came out as a whisper, frail and broken, shattering Chasten’s heart. He couldn’t say anything to make the situation better, so instead, he nudged Pete to keep moving.

It was a kind of ritual for them to shed each other of their work clothes after a long day — whenever they both went to sleep at the same time, at least. Pete was of very few words tonight, and for good reason. Chasten could tell he had been compartmentalizing to hide his disappointment and grief, all the things that he would deal with when he wasn’t bone-weary. Things he wouldn’t have had to deal with until then, if Chasten had only remembered to give him time. They could’ve processed it together, later. As tired as he was himself, he knew that tonight would be his turn to take care of his husband. 

Winter coats came off first, then suit jackets, methodically hung up inside their closet. He was undoing Pete’s cuffs when he felt the other hand settle on his cheek, a thumb rubbing small circles under his eye. He glanced up. Pete squinted and smiled a half-smile, the best he could do from his state of mind, and they shared a quiet understanding. Chasten made sure to kiss the top of his forehead as he slid Pete’s tie from his neck, a quiet hum emanating from the space between them. He couldn’t tell whose it was, but it didn’t matter. In sync, as if it was the easiest thing in the world, their four hands worked at the buttons on Pete’s dress shirt together. Slowly dragging it off, Chasten nudged Pete’s arms upwards, pulling a sweater down them. Pete had already toed off his socks and pants, so Chasten put a pair of sweats in his hands before changing out himself.

When he looked up, Pete had been finished for some time, but he was still leaning against the wall. His eyes were unfocused again, clouding over as if they were empty. It hurt him to see his husband like this, but now was not the time to ask. Chasten huffed affectionately to hide his concern. “Alright, babe. Come on.” He bent down to slip an arm under Pete’s knees, settling another behind his back, and lifted him. God, he was so light. Although Pete had always been slim-framed, he felt noticeably fragile, as if he would crumble to dust in seconds. Pete instinctively shifted his body, pressing his nose next to Chasten’s collarbone and letting a whimper escape. Something inside of Chasten’s soul twisted painfully at the sound, and suddenly he felt as if nothing in the world existed except for him and his Pete. Leaning down to whisper into Pete’s hair, he murmured, “You’re safe, darling. You’ll always be safe here.” And he gave the crown of Pete’s head a kiss.

Silently carrying him towards their bed, he had the strange urge to rock Pete back and forth. It was the way he let himself melt into Chasten’s arms, the way his brows were stitched together in a wounded sort of vulnerability. He would do anything if it meant that Pete would feel less broken.

Chasten carefully laid Pete down on the bed, planting a soft kiss to his forehead, his closed eyelids, his nose, his mouth. Pete whimpered again as he felt Chasten let go, hands reaching out blindly. “Shhh. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.” He moved to settle next to Pete, stretching out beside him and playing with Pete’s hair. The stress visibly melted from his poor, sweet husband’s face, relaxing as Chasten slid his fingers towards his scalp and smoothed his hair. Gently removing a hand to pull the blanket over the both of them, he felt Pete resettling himself, leaning closer to curl his body against Chasten’s warmth. His arms circled around Chasten’s waist, pulling them as close as possible. 

“I love you too.” Chasten rubbed little circles along Pete’s temples and down his neck, slowly massaging the tension out of his shoulders. A pleased, baritone hum rumbled in Pete’s throat, and relief bloomed in Chasten’s heart. He would always be okay in the end, Chasten knew, but he had been genuinely worried about the toll that Pete’s grief could take. His husband had always been too harsh on himself.

Pete scooted closer to nestle his head in the crook of Chasten’s neck, prodding Chasten’s arms until they moved to hold him again. _Needy, needy,_ Chasten thought, smiling to himself, and tilted his head to rest above Pete’s. As troubled as he knew his husband was, exhaustion finally settled in, and it wasn’t long before Pete’s breathing evened out.

“Sleep well, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Pocket for a wonderful editing job, and to mamie_eisenhower for beta reading.


End file.
